


How To Eat a Fish or The Time a Jerk and the Hag Who Tried to Kill Him Became Friends

by UnapologeticallyMeatwad



Category: Emperor's New Groove (2000)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, POV Canon Character, Shitty People Being Shitty, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 09:53:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21390211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnapologeticallyMeatwad/pseuds/UnapologeticallyMeatwad
Summary: Like — for instance — when Yzma said that mean, horrible thing to that peasant? She had spinach in her teeth! See, that is like the O.G. Cringe right there....okay okay, this story isn't going to just be about me gloating, but I mean, it's AO3, you read the tags right? Unreliable narrator, check. POV Canon Canon Character, check. It was all there on the ticket stub.
Relationships: Kuzco & Yzma
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16
Collections: 2019 Disney Animated Movie Exchange (DAM Exchange)





	How To Eat a Fish or The Time a Jerk and the Hag Who Tried to Kill Him Became Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/gifts).

I am told that the days my throne was occupied by the keister of Emperor Yzma were pretty bleak, a mixture of dark comedy and political satire to last the ages!

"_It is really no concern of mine whether your family has — what was it again?"_

"_Um… food?"_

"_**Ha!**__ You really should've thought of that before you became peasants!"_

Yeah, so that's gonna get a _yikes_ from me. To be fair though, I probably did stuff like that too back in the day, ya know, before I got turned into a llama and stuff. Turning into an animal, especially a kooky one, tends to make people change life directions.

See, now I'm on the up and up! People love me! Though I gotta admit, my life isn't as fun as it used to be. I can't just lounge around in the sun and think about water slides I wanna make, I have to attend all these meetings and stuff to make the lives of the commoners better. I barely have friends anymore. Like, I love the people in my life, but they got their own stuff going on when I'm not a llama in peril, and it's… uh… lonely. Yeah.

Ah, real quick bee tee dubbs, you know who I am, right?

…

Pacha?! You think that I'm — what?! No! I'm not — listen, nothing against the guy, he really is a sweetheart. Terrific cook, greater singer, saved my life more than once, you know, he's good — is all I'm saying. But _I _am great! I'm Kuzco, baby! C'mon!

Well, I'm glad we cleared that up, otherwise the next sentence would make _no_ sense: It was a sunny afternoon when Pacha and I (as in me, Kuzco!) ventured to the local soup kitchen or whatever. It took ten of my most buff servants to carry with them all the savings I've ever collected through my short, illustrious life and — okay, I'm bragging. But I get to brag, I'm donating it all to charity, okay? And it's like — a lot of gold. Like soooooo much, like so much you'd be crazy to get rid of it all at once and…

...yeah, so I'm not about it. Pacha knows, you know, we all know! So why don't I just take it back home? Well, that'd be awkward. Don't wanna do that. If it's anything I do as Emperor, it's get rid of this whole second hand embarrassment thing — Lord knows I've seen enough of it to last me a lifetime.

Like — for instance — when Yzma said that mean, horrible thing to that peasant? She had spinach in her teeth! See, that is like the O.G. Cringe right there.

...okay okay, this story isn't going to just be about me gloating, but I mean, it's AO3, you read the tags right? Unreliable narrator, check. POV Canon Canon Character, check. It was all there on the ticket stub.

...but yeah, I should probably get to the point, huh? Our story begins _on a dark, stormy night_… oh man, just writing that gives me tingles. What a good line! I should be a writer or something.

A puffy white cat struts into an alleyway. Rain tumbles down cobblestone walls, drenching just about everything in sight, including the kitty whose normally pristine fur drags against the ground like a gross mop.

She patters on up to her spot among the other strays, but something is in her way. Another cat, a ragged tabby, lies curled up on top of her box.

Sneering, our puffy, pug faced friend saunters on up to the tabby in question and nudges the kitty with her noggin. But the tabby ignores her; he stretches out his paws, revealing his claws, but his smug face remains sleepy.

(Hey, you get who the cat is, right? I mean, there's a reason I lead in with Yzma and — oh! Oh! You got it? Wow! You're such an astute little reader, look at you! Wow. I guess commoners are better at this than I thought.)

Yzma reels back her hideous head and hisses, just as she did as a human being. The tabby's eyes open into slits, and that's all it takes to get Yzma to back off.

For the past week, this has been Yzma's home, but it turns out these other cats don't like her at all, so it's time to find some new digs.

(Can I just say — writing about Yzma — um — sucks? I kinda want Yzma to write the parts about herself, but I just know she'd write something mean about me if I let that happen and I don't know if I can take that right now.)

Yzma wanders through the streets. Over the past year, she's found and lost a lot of homes. Known to the city as a stray with attitude, most people think she's feral and keep their distance. No one's feeding her, because they don't want to make a habit out of it. No one even scratches behind her eyes, or pats her tummy, not that she'd let them. She's definitely bit a few poor saps, and even kids. Like this cat? She's frosty.

Yzma ducks into another alleyway, but it's occupied by other strays. They all know her, everyone knows her by this point. They don't even need to hiss anymore, she just knows that it's time to hit the bricks, so she bows out.

Poetic justice, or dramatic irony? Who's to say? Point is, this chick's got a bad, bad life going and —

"Do you mind?!" Yzma hisses, tail standing on end….

...is something that would happen if this were a nice li'l moviefilm! A break of that darn fourth wall would be all too easy, but no no, not this story, dear reader. For it is in _text_ and _I _am a writer. Ha, honestly, I don't even really need to pay that much attention to Yzma's speech patterns, I could just write her saying just about anything and as long as it's mean / dumb / stupid, you'll believe it's her!

"I think it's a form of elder abuse to say _Ok boomer _to elderly folk like myself," is something that Yzma _could _say in this story, and you'd be like, Wow! Kuzco! Good job! Nailed that characterization!

But uh, okay, so bare with me. This story isn't actually about me pooping on Yzma's character. Too bad really, because I'm pretty good at that. No, see, our paths cross at this point.

Yzma is sad, lonely, and hungry. She's heading to the beach in hopes of sinking her teeth into some fish.

I am a sad, lonely, and broke, man. I just donated all my money to charity! I'm at the beach, because I'm a complex, serious guy who really needs the best possible view of the moon so that he can brood.

My legs are splayed out on the sand when I hear the soft _fwoomsh_ of little feet pattering behind me. I turn and immediately that snow white puff ball rears back, tail shooting so high into the air I'm worried it might fall off. She bares her fangs, eyes going feral for a second, before she snaps back into reality.

"Hello Kuzco," she says in that cute, li'l high pitched sneer of hers, though her voice is kinda scratchy, probably because she doesn't have anyone to talk to so like — not so cute.

"Uh, hey," I say, quickly boosting myself back up onto my feet. "What do you want?"

Yzma narrows her eyes. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

I scratch my chin. "Uh — I wouldn't. But I feel like I'm supposed to ask. It's part of that whole _approachable nice guy_ thing."

She bumps up against my ankle. "Oh, so approachable," she slurs, slipping off and walking up to the tide, watching the waters roll back and forth easily. She bows down to pounce, tail swishing eagerly in anticipation. "Go away."

"What? No way," I shoot back. "I'm like — brooding and stuff."

"Brooding?" she tosses over her hunched shoulder. "Why? Gave all your money away to charity, I presume?"

"Uh — " Aw man, that makes me sound like a jerk. But lying is pretty bad too, or so I'm told. I grab my neck from behind and look up at the sky. "Something like that, hey, why are you eyeing the water? I thought cats hate water."

"They do," she says curtly. "But they like fish."

"Ooooh," I say. "Ah! So you're hungy?"

Her nose twitches and her head snaps back to send me a death glare. "Hungy?"

"Yeah, you _hungy?_" I pat my tummy (which incidentally is totally like, on the way to a six pack and stuff).

She frowns, and in a rare moment of weakness, Yzma nods and says, "Yes. Unfortunately, due to my circumstances, I am reliant on the help of others for food, but I'm afraid my luck has run out. So now — I _hunt._"

Whoa. So poetic. So — oh wait, no, she just like — totally has no friends. Ha! I almost make fun of her about it, but that feels bad.

"So you want to catch a fish here?" I ask, stepping up to her side.

Yzma jerks her little head away from me, like a true thespian. "Yes. I must. My survival depends on it."

"Ah," I frown. "Good luck with that. I can't see you successfully capturing a fish."

"Excuse me?" she hisses back. "I'd like to see you try."

Okay, so don't think less of me, but uh — listen! I can't say no to a challenge! I'm a competitive guy, you know, always playin' for keeps, so I tell her yeah, I'll try.

We don't talk to each other, but we both stay by the shoreline until morning breaks, at least I think. It gets fuzzy after a while. And honestly, neither of us catch a fish. The water keeps like — moving and stuff — and everytime it curls back to us we both jump the ocean to rip the fish out that is surely moving stuff around and — I don't know, these fish must be pretty slippery.

What I'm trying to say is — um — I get pretty tired and pass out and stuff.

"Kuzco?" a deep, warm voice calls out. My eyes crack open, and Pacha's big beautiful face is silhouetted against the sun. The rays that would usually be so gentle to my well taken after skin burn. I swipe at the air, and feel pain. I must have fallen asleep.

"What's up, Patcha?" I drawl, getting up.

His eyebrow is arched like — way high. "Uh — not much. Why are you sleeping with Yzma?"

Sleeping with Yzma?! Oh no! What did I drink last ni—oh, right, Yzma's a cat. I look at my lap and see her curled up between my hips. I shove her off, and she rolls onto her back, eyes opening wide, claws popping out in her alertness. But when she sees me, she just droops down in shame. "Oops."

Well, it's a pretty sorry sight, so I decide to take the hit. "We were hunting for fish," I tell Pacha. "Yzma's like dying, like _bleeeeeegh_, so you know — don't want that, right?"

Pacha's stern expression shifts into his _way to go Kuzco!_ smile and he offers me a thumbs up. "That's good, Kuzco! That's the kind of stuff you should be doing as Emperor but there's just one problem."

Yzma looks up at him with wide eyes, and I feel kinda bad for her. He's probably gonna tell us that I'm supposed to have Yzma executed now that we've found her…

"...you won't have any luck finding fish at the shoreline," Pacha explains. "You'd have to wade pretty far out to find them."

Yzma's alert stance falls back into something more relaxed for her. "Oh, I didn't know. I've been eating scraps for the past year, so… uh, just to know what it's like! Being someone as highborn as myself, I'd never intentionally stoop to such…"

"You'd have better luck in the jungle," Pacha says as if Yzma didn't try defending herself. "There's fish there, or I don't know, Yzma, you could just come to my place. We've got food for you there and — "

"No!" she spits, turning away in a huff. "None of that now! Come Kuzco! Take me to the jungle!"

I blink. "What? Me? Why me?"

She looks at me in a way that only a very coy cat would. "You helped me all night, you dolt. Clearly, you're someone I can take advantage of."

"Wow," I say. "You're very forward."

She licks her paw. "In our world, Kuzco, you have to be."

* * *

For what it's worth, I don't help Yzma find any fish in the jungle. I just chill out against one of the trees and watch her. It's pretty cute. Every time she gets ready to pounce, her whole body rocks back and forth and her butt shakes its way into the air.

After a while, she gets the hang of it and chows down on the dead thing. When she struggles biting her way through the scales, I try helping by biting through the scales myself, but they taste so bad! Why do people even like fish? Ew.

"Hm, perhaps it's possible that we are looking at this all wrong," Yzma announces after some time, the two of us crouched over the now very dead fish. "Maybe we don't actually eat fish."

"Nah, I feel like I've had a few," I say.

"Then what do we do?" she asks, and it's weird, how she's like, just asking me without any intent of murdering me.

"I don't know, but if I bite off anymore raw fish I'm gonna vom," I say, plucking out another scale from in-between my teeth. "You wanna just eat out?"

She looks at me with a lot of agitation. "I'm a cat, Kuzco. I have no money."

"Oh, right," I run a hand through my hair. "And I'm broke."

"Really?" she's amused by that.

"Yeah, I donated it all to charity," I sigh.

"Ha! Sap!" she cackles. "I thought you were joking earlier."

"Yeah, yeah," I shake my head. "I know. It's part of the whole good guy thing. It doesn't make sense for me to have a lot of gold when I got like — a free room and board thing going on at the palace."

The humor fades from her puffy face, and she withdraws her paws, looking down at the fish curiously as if that's that.

It's a bleak moment. I don't know why, but I want to know how to eat this dumb fish. It has _nothing _to do with Yzma, like, she's a bad guy and stuff. Not about her. But who knows, maybe I'll turn into a llama again and end up in a similar predicament.

(Boy, that'd be a lazy sequel though.)

"Kuzco," Yzma says with some gravity. "Don't tell anyone I said this, but I once told a peasant that it wasn't my problem he chose to be a peasant."

"True that," I say automatically, and already feel bad. "...is something I'd say in the old days! Heh. Heh."

Yzma smiles at that. "But know that I've lived this — life — I can see I was wrong. I didn't choose this, and it is hard. I think I am going to die, Kuzo."

...okay, so maybe I am actually totally invested in Yzma. Because if she can't get through this, I certainly can't. I like need her to figure it out so I can know I'll be okay doing the good guy thing.

Then a miracle happens: a squirrel jumps out from the bushes.

I instinctively scoop Yzma up and fold her under my arm like a baby, jabbing the fish at the squirrel like a dagger. "Get out of here you fiend!"

The squirrel furrows his brow and hops up to us, probably to incite another panther riot. I back up, because this dude is pretty scary, but he manages to snatch the fish away from me. He slaps it on the ground, picks up a rock, and etches into the side of the creature. Its little paws work into the flesh and push the creature open until the good stuff is all flayed out and ready to eat.

The squirrel runs off, and Yzma immediately darts at the fish and bites away at the flesh, tongue lapping the mess into her maw. After a minute or so, her head sticks itself back up into the sky and she is apparently refreshed.

She sends me this look, and like — it's really cute. But I can't, I just can't. I jerk a thumb back towards the city. "It's been fun, Yzma, but I should probably head out."

Her face falls. It'd be harder to notice if her features weren't already so small. Any expression she makes now is huge. Does she like… want to be my friend? Huh.

"Kuzco," Yzma lifts her head. "It makes me want to positively die saying this, but… I enjoyed our time together and regret turning you into a llama and leaving you for dead. Though I'm glad I turned you into a llama instead of killing you."

"Oh wow," I scratch my head. "That's — huh. Yeah, I'm thankful we hung out too. Would you… want to keep hanging out?"

She smiles. "How _needy_ of you. But yes, it would be… ah… better than the alternative."

So Yzma bumps up against my ankle again, taking in my scent, because that's going to be important now. Well, it is important for a hot second. She needs my scent so she can find me anywhere in the city, whenever she like drops into my life to hang out, but eventually, I just adopt her and stuff…

….so that's why, like, you know, she doesn't have to go to the jungle and learn things from that weird squirrel. I swear, that guy is up to no good.

But um… that's our life — oh yeesh, I say it like we're married. We're not, she's _not_ my type, I'm just like… ugh… I'm like one of those crazy cat ladies, yeah, yeah, you can make fun, ha ha, Kuzo's best friend is his cat, hee hee…

...she's a cool friend though. She just gets me, man.


End file.
